Love and Hate
by Rydia Asuka
Summary: "They say that the ones you love the most, are the ones you hurt the most." If there was any way they could have avoided that curse, they would have...but life doesn't work that way.


_...my feelings on this piece are mixed. I was trying to do something very specific with this story, and I can only hope I succeeded, at least in part. This story is supposed to be a conglomeration of emotions and how they change, but how they resist change too, and...maybe I got that. I hope I did. It's also my first time writing in first-person, so I hope I managed to pull **that** off, too... Third-person would not have worked for this story, though, so...well, it was a chance to broaden my field of writing._

_At any rate, I hope you all enjoy reading this. I cannot tell you how much I would appreciate feedback; I want to know if it turned out at all like what I envisioned. If enough people like this, I might even do a few more of these, for other scenes in the series. I dunno. We'll see?_

Disclaimer: Gundam SEED and all related concepts and characters are property of Sunrise Studios and Bandai. No copyright infringement is intended; no profit is being made.

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><p><strong>Love and Hate<strong>

They say that the ones you love the most, are the ones you hurt the most. Never had I believed anything more than I did that saying at this very moment.

It had all started off innocently enough—at least, innocently enough for a warzone—but ever since I had seen him, standing atop that…that _damn_ mobile suit, things had steadily escalated out of control. Sure, we started off hesitantly, each refusing to really fight the other—much to the chagrin of some of my teammates, I might add—and while it would never be okay, it could have been worse. At least that hesitation, that reluctance, showed that the spark of friendship still existed…because we were the best of friends.

We had grown up together on the moon and, when we had been forced apart, had both vowed to not be taken up by this war. I had no reason not to trust him in that and, I guess, he, no reason not to trust me. When you're as close as we were, when you know such a cherished friend so well, there are no lies between you.

So, when had things started to go so _wrong_?

That was obvious. The reluctance to fight one another remained for a long time—actually, it might have still, had we shown the same mercy to one another's comrades—but it could never last, not in a war, and when people started dying…

Logically, I knew that I never should have blamed him for the deaths of my comrades. This was war, and people knew full well that when they went to the battlefield, they may never return. That was so much easier said than done, though, so I _did_ blame him. Him, and myself. It also worked as a double-edger, because I easily disregarded it when I killed his friend. I ignored his feelings on the matter and clung to my own rage, as though killing him might somehow save those lost. I shouldn't have, but I did. It was a bitter irony that pitted us against one another in battle, best friends fighting and killing one another's friends…and each other.

The greatest irony of all, though? That friend, the one he had killed that had really sent me for his throat? I think I befriended him because of their _similarities_. They were both sweet and caring, with a desire for peace that made the current me almost ashamed of myself. Most of all, though, both of them had so much compassion that it was impossible not to adore them. In short: Neither belonged in war, and had I had things my way, neither would ever have set foot on the battlefield.

…no, had I had things my way, this war would have never started, because Junius-seven would still be around; my _mother_ would still be around.

I did not have it my way, however. He was on the battlefield, and anyone who knew him—or, maybe I was biased there; I knew him better than any of 'friends' could ever dream of—could see how it was changing him. What had once been a sweet, rational, young…_crybaby _was being converted into a killer, and I knew, I _knew_, that it had to be destroying him.

In all of the years I had known him, he had never been violent. He was loving, caring, and compassionate…as far from violent as I thought it possible for a human being to be—at least, that _was_ how I thought, until I had met my fiancée, and even after he was never far from. He was the sort of person I wanted to protect, because he was so innocent and naïve; harmless. To know that the Naturals were manipulating him like this sickened me.

From the beginning of his involvement, I suspect my presence had him teetering on the brink. He never wanted to fight anyone, least of all me—or, so I wanted to believe—and so I was absolutely certain that taking him to Z.A.F.T. with me would be the best thing for him. He would die out there, if left with the Earth Alliance, and so I tried to save him. Oh, did I ever try. I tried with persuasion, I tried with force…I even _begged_ him to come with me, but he was too stubborn to listen! Nobody could say I didn't try, though.

…when had I _stopped_ trying, then? Oh, the answer to that was easy: Orb. Even during the battle outside of Orb's border, we hadn't fought seriously. He shot all of my team down that day…except for me. He wasn't fighting me, nor I, him. That would be the last time we held back. I think, maybe, that at the fence that day, with Torii between us, we had silently agreed to stop playing around. I could see that he had changed, but that he _hadn't_ changed, and I'll never know what he saw in me. What I _am_ sure of, however, is that that would be the last time we faced each other as friends.

Because…because he had picked his side of the fence to stand on.

Even after that day, he insisted that he didn't want to fight me anymore, but where had that taken us? The deaths of our friends, _that_ was where! They wouldn't have had to die like that if…if I could have just said the right thing, convinced him to come…! But no, there was no point in ifs, now; I had vowed to kill him, and I had to hold to that…even if it killed _me_, too.

I blamed myself, saying that if he was gone, my friend wouldn't have had to die, but that same would have been true if I had succeeded in taking him and getting him home to his family—or even just away from _them_. I could have saved him from this. I _should _have saved him from this!

But I _hadn't_. I had left him to turn into a monster. He wasn't the innocent boy that I had loved so much as a child, not any longer. It was my fault; it was his fault…it was the whole, damn _world's_ fault! Whoever's fault it was, the fact remained that we _weren't_ friends, not anymore.

…right?

So it was that he became the enemy, and I hated him. Oh, I hated him with every fibre of my being—but not because he was the enemy, no, not because of that, nor because he had killed my friends. No, I hated him because he made me hate him. I hated him because I _didn't_ hate him; I _couldn't_ hate him.

I hated him…because he was my best friend, my _brother_, and I could never hate him. Of all of the people left in the world, he was probably the one I loved the most. But I still hated him.

Entering the code to self-destruct the Aegis was one of the easiest things I had ever done. Hitting the button to eject myself from the cockpit? That…was one of the hardest. It would be so much easier to go with him. Maybe in Hell, or wherever we were going, we could make amends, except I knew that I couldn't die yet. If one of us had to go…then the other could damn well live on with the knowledge of how badly we had screwed everything up. And maybe, somehow, I could find a way to make it up to him…and to myself.

I may never come to terms with whether or not I hated him—or, rather, _why _I hated him—but I knew one thing beyond a shadow of a doubt: I hated myself more.


End file.
